The prettiest gal in Michigan.
The prettiest gal in Michigan. I kissed the prettiest gal in Michigan and her lips tasted of beer and the Irish whiskey. She told me, Johnnie, the quiet poet. You write about everything,… Continue reading
The prettiest gal in Michigan. I kissed the prettiest gal in Michigan and her lips tasted of beer and the Irish whiskey. She told me, Johnnie, the quiet poet. You write about everything,… Continue reading
We are, what we became. 1- They tried to shame her, they could not. She saw in their dirty eyes, whiskey, sin and sadness. She knew what she wanted, and she took it.… Continue reading